Chapter 287

“A sheer what?” Janice looked baffled.

Jameson said, “To stop me from divorcing Ruth, you claimed Madeline was impersonating Ruth and that Shermaine had her locked up. But the truth is, she wasn’t hiding at all. Natalie ran into Ruth tonight. That shrew slapped her and made her twist her ankle!”

Janice nearly laughed at his delusion. She thought, ‘What nonsense is he spinning now?’

Before she could respond, Ruth descended the stairs, her voice icy. “That’s too much? I could do far worse.”

Jameson’s head snapped up at the sound. There, on the landing, stood Ruth—no garish makeup or flashy clothes, just a simple white dress and an aura of quiet elegance.

She had something that the so-called “Ruth” had never truly possessed. Or rather, this was the real Ruth he had known fourteen years ago.

“You…” Jameson choked on the words.

“Fourteen years, Jameson,” Ruth said, her gaze freezing him in place. “I never got to punish you for losing Shermaine. And now, you dare squabble with me over your mistress?”

Jameson’s blood ran cold. He thought, ‘This tone… This presence… This is really Ruth.’

A strange sense of fear crept up inside him. “Mom… She… She is…” He couldn’t even finish his question, or he wasn’t ready to admit the truth out loud.

Janice snorted, “Yes, she’s Ruthie. We thought she was dead, but she’s back.”

It felt like lightning had struck Jameson’s brain, leaving him dazed and stunned. He just couldn’t believe it was real.

With a final glare, Janice turned off the TV and walked straight to her room. She had no more patience for Jameson and decided it was better not to see or hear any more of this mess.

With Janice gone, the living room held only Jameson and Ruth.

With each step Ruth took toward him, Jameson’s legs weakened further. He had assumed the fear she once instilled in him had faded, but he was wrong. The impostor had never made his scalp prickle like this.

Ruth stopped seven feet away. “Jameson, do you remember your wedding vows?”

Jameson stayed silent.

“Need a reminder?” Ruth’s smile was glacial.

Jameson’s lips moved soundlessly. He remembered exactly—the oath to remain faithful, to cherish her forever, or else “may lightning strike me dead.”

Avoiding her gaze, he muttered, “Why bring this up now?”

“I don’t need lightning to punish you,” Ruth said. “But you will repay what you owe me.”

Jameson narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you want?”

“Kneel,” Ruth said simply.

Jameson’s face darkened. “You want me to kneel to you? You’ve got to be joking.”

But before he could say more, Ruth snatched a feather duster from the side table and lashed it across his shoulders.

Jameson flinched hard from the sudden strike. “Have you lost your mind, Ruth?”

Ruth tilted her head. “You want the divorce? Kneel, take your punishment, and it’s yours.”

Upstairs, Shermaine watched, impressed by Ruth’s ruthlessness. Jameson’s pained expression confirmed each strike carried full force.

She snapped a photo and sent it to Joshua. [Future reference. This is how I’ll handle you if you piss me off.]